


Opening Act

by rogerstaylor (freddimercury)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1976-1977, A Day At The Races Tour, F/M, Hyde Park 1976, Rock Stars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 04:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18218069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddimercury/pseuds/rogerstaylor
Summary: Your band is on the rise but is still lacking the exposure to make it big. What more could you possibly ask for when your manager suggests being the opening act for one of the biggest bands around?





	Opening Act

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, the summary? Shit, I know. 
> 
> Second of all, please bear with me through this. It was a sudden brain baby that needed to come out.
> 
> Also, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Find me @rogerstaylor on the Tumblah

September 18th, 1976

* * *

 

You had this bad habit of pacing your apartment when you were frustrated, especially when it came to songwriting. When the next lyric was just not coming to you or when the melody sounded a bit off and you couldn’t find the balance, it would drive you mad. Sometimes to the point of actual physical anger. You’d feel like it was right there on the edge of your grasp, tipping back and forth, coming closer and moving away just as you were about to grab it. It was infuriating.

 

That’s how you were feeling at this very moment. Your notebook sat on your deep brown, leather sofa as you paced back and forth, glaring at it. Your eyes were glued to the pitch black scratch marks marring the paper where you had been aggressively eliminating word after word. The wood beneath you creaked and groaned with each stomp of your socked feet.

Why was a simple little love song so difficult for you? You’d written far more complex pieces with much deeper meanings, lyrics so involved that even your bandmates didn’t have the slightest idea about what they meant. A song like this should be easy for you to bang out in an afternoon but here you are left completely and utterly stumped. You would have never imagined it being so hard to write about love. Sure, it would probably be helpful if you, yourself had been in love before, but it’s not like you didn’t get the general idea.

 

Beyond frustrated you march over to your Fender and rip into it. The speakers screeching so loud you know Ms. Walters, who lives below you, will be up to bang on your door soon. You start strumming a hard and fast beat. It’s off the cuff, angry and raw, much like how you feel. The melody comes quickly and soon your singing at the top of your lungs:

 

_“It’s my mind, it’s my soul. I don’t care if it’s black as coal. I’ll be who I want to be. And, that’s a guarantee!”_

 

Within twenty minutes you’re out of breath and have the makings of a new song to show the boys. You huff when you hear a rhythmic knock at your door. You put down your guitar and make your way over to answer it, surprised it took this long for Ms. Walters to get there. Swinging the door open and seeing her wrinkled, put out face, you already know you’re in for an ear full.

 

* * *

 

“It’s good, [Y/N]. Real good, but um, weren’t you supposed to write a ballad of sorts?” Cass asked. You were standing in his apartments large study. The band had converted it a couple of months ago into a practice area where you could all meet, hash out news songs, talk gigs or simply jam. You had just finished playing them the new song you wrote yesterday in your fit of anger and you were not getting the response you were looking for. “I mean that _is_ what Reid said we needed, right?”

 

You shook your head. Cass, the tall, brilliant boy with his long brown hair and deep green eyes was always such a kiss-ass. He was the kid in class that would remind the teacher of a pop quiz they mentioned the day before or ask what the homework was for the evening. It would make everyone in the class hate him and throw paper at him. You’d known him since you were both 9 years old. He had moved to England with his family when his father’s work had relocated him. He had been shy at first, his thick accent and having a gap where his left front tooth should have been causing him to be apprehensive. However, as soon as you gave him that first smile with your two bottom teeth missing, he grinned back and you were immediately best friends. He was the person you trusted the most in the world, whether that be with advice, opinions or your life. Despite his affliction for being an absolute know-it-all.

 

You groan, “I tried, but it just wasn’t happening.” You sat your guitar down and flopped onto the couch next to Collin, your drummer, and buried your head in his shoulder. “Besides, the one I just played is kind of about love.”

 

Theo, the band's bassists, scoffed, “‘I’ll make you bleed if you don’t set me free?’”

 

“Yeah, it’s lovely.” You shrug, pretending to not see how Theo could think it was anything but romantic.

 

“It’s terrifying.” He retorts. You roll your eyes.

 

Theo is the soft one of the group. He writes most of the bands slower, lighter songs. Gentler on the ears and more melancholy, which fits his personality to a T. He’s the type of person who gets the recommended eight hours of sleep every night, doesn’t smoke and hardly drinks. He’s extremely dedicated, loyal and strong. If you’re part of his circle there is nothing he would not do for you. He’s also been in a relationship with the lovely, Alicia, for six years now, which you find really, very sweet and are not at all jealous of.

 

Actually, the whole band is very stereotypical in the sense that, the drummer, Collin, is the bad boy, ladies man. Cass, the lead guitarist, is an utter perfectionist. Theo, bass, is the strong, silent type and you, the lead singer, are the unspoken delegated leader.

 

“Okay, but we have a meeting with Reid tomorrow.” Collin cuts in, “And he wanted a ballad of some kind, [Y/N]. What are we supposed to do?”

 

“Why do I have to be the one to write it?” You grumble, “Why can’t you do it?”

 

Collin furrows his brows, “What on Earth gives you the idea that I would have any clue on how to write about love?”

 

Which okay, yeah, he has a point. Collin doesn’t have any knowledge on the topic of love. Not that you do either, but at least you have a general idea. Your best friend Carol is engaged to an amazing guy and your parents are in a very loving relationship, so yeah you’ve witnessed love.

 

Collin other the other hand? Not so much. His idea of love is that feeling of excitement you get when you’re starving at a restaurant and you spot the waiter finally coming over with your much-anticipated food. Yeah, that’s what love is to Collin.

 

“Fair enough.” You smile. “Theo,” The bassists rolls his eyes like he knows exactly what’s coming before you even say it, “Maybe you could come up with something?”

 

Sighing, Theo runs a hand through his curly, thick ginger hair. “Of course, [Y/N] anything for you.” His accent was always so much more pronounced when he was being sarcastic.

 

You stick your tongue out at him and cross both your arms and legs. Scanning the room you see newspaper clippings and posters stuck to the large bulletin board and all over the walls. Each one of them from either one of Total Orion (that’s your band) gigs or from one of the many concerts you had been to. Some of them are even reviews from the college paper or local rag, both positive and negative. Collin had insisted on keeping the two worst columns bashing the band because they were as he said, “nonsensical foolery.”

 

“Look, I’ll continue to work on it but right now I can’t even look at my notebook or I’ll burn the damn thing.” It was actually shoved underneath your mattress as you spoke. It had been given to you by your grandfather when you turned 16. It happened to be the last gift from him before he passed and it had sat unused for years until you began writing your songs, many inspired by the bond you had shared with him. So, it only seemed fitting that they are written and made real on the pages in which he gifted to you.

 

“What do you think Reid wants to talk to us about?” Cass changed the subject. Probably sensing you were done with the topic of love songs. Bless him.

 

“Dunno,” Collin shrugs, getting up and walking around to sit at his drum kit. “A second album maybe?”

 

A second Total Orion album was what the whole band has been itching to start working on. The first album's sales were shoddy at best. It didn’t do much more than bring slightly more attention to the band. You were still only popular locally with barely any reach outside of England.

 

It hadn’t been shocking really and was honestly to be expected. Reid had informed you that it would take a little bit of time to build up popularity, you just had to keep working and get more exposure. Two things the entire band was craving.

 

You were still amazed by the dedication and effort that everyone put into making the band the best that it could be. Cass would stay up all hours of the night tweaking a song until it was perfect. Collin would tune and re-tune his drums over and over again before each gig, while Theo would practice a piece until his fingers bled. You had all poured your blood, sweat, and tears into the band, into each other. It gave you so much pride and confidence that no matter what you were in it together, as a band and as a family.

 

“If that’s the case, I already have a few songs I have been working on,” Cass replies, getting up and pulling out his own notebook. It’s stuffed full of loose paper and flyers. As he flips it open one falls out and floats to the floor landing in front of your feet. No one else pays it any mind while you reach down to pick it up. It was folded like an accordion but you could read the thick blue text across the top _“Virgin Records Present Hyde Park Etc..!”_

 

“Uh, Cass?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What’s this?” Furrowing his brow, Cass takes the flyer from your hands and unfolds it. You watch his eyes scan over the text quickly. “Oh yeah!” He lights up. “It’s a concert at Hyde Park this evening. It’s supposedly free and Queen is going to be there!”

 

“Oh shit, no way!”

 

“What?!” Both you and Collin exclaim at the same time, jumping up to look over Cass’ shoulder. Right there on the page was a picture of your favorite band. There were a couple of other acts listed but you couldn’t care less. Your eyes glued to the monochromatic photo of the four men you held above all others, musically speaking. A Night At The Opera was the album currently sitting in your record player. You had it playing constantly, it’s eclectic blend of various music styles lent to so much inspiration for you. You had never heard anything like it before and truly believed the members of this band had a masterful gift in songwriting. And also, balls, a lot of balls. Not many bands could pull off what they did with that album. Which was something you strived to live up to in every song you had ever written?

 

You had never had actually had the opportunity to see Queen play live and there was no way you were missing this show. “Yeah, we are definitely going to this gig.”

 

“What about rehearsal?” Theo asked with a raised eyebrow. By the look on his face, he already knew that the decision had been made and was final but just had to ask to see if he could get a rise out of the rest of you.

 

“Screw rehearsal.” Collin retorted, his jacket already half on. “There is no way I am missing this show. It’s free and it’s Queen. There’s no better scenario in this world.”

 

No one, not even Theo, could argue with that statement. Quick as you could you all grabbed your jackets and planned to meet at Collins within the hour. Since he lived the closest to the venue you would all most likely end up crashing at his that evening. You said your goodbye to Cass and promised to come back by his place so you could walk over to Collins together.

As soon as you stepped out onto the front landing of the apartment building you started running through every article of clothing you have in your closet at home. You usually didn’t worry too much about what you wore but for some reason, it seemed like tonight it mattered.

 

Stuffing your hands in your jacket pockets you started to jog quickly up the street to get home just that tiny bit sooner. Luckily Cass did not live far from you, only just a block or two over. You would have a decent amount of time to get changed, feed the cat and head back over to make your walk to Collins.

 

* * *

 

“Of course! Of-fucking-course!” You yell, throwing another sweater over your shoulder. You had absolutely nothing to wear but at the same time a million pairs of pants and shirts all over your bedroom floor. Something you were not looking forward to cleaning up later. Growling in frustration you pull open your dresser drawer and grab out your overly loved black leather pants. The boys were forever teasing you that you wear them for everything but you didn’t care, you looked hot in them. Looking around the catastrophe that was your very clean room not but five minutes ago your eyes land on your deep V, tiger print crop. “Aha! Perfect! ”

 

Throwing on your clothes you spend about double the time fluffing your hair and smudging on your eyeliner before grabbing your black boots and heading out the door. But not before giving Sy, your cat, a scratch behind the ear and a kiss on the nose.

  


* * *

 

“How in the world are we gonna get to the front?” The four of you were standing at the gate looking across a dark sea of people. You had never seen so many people at a concert before. Actually, you had never seen so many people anywhere before. Grabbing your hand Collin started to push his way through the crowd. You could feel Theo hook his finger in your back belt loop to ensure that the four of you were not separated. It took a good 15 minutes to weave through the clusters of fans, people laughing and swaying on all sides of you. When Collin finally found where he wanted to be he came to an abrupt stop, causing you to accidentally bump into his back.

Looking around you could see that you had made it to the dead center of the stage, only a few groups of people in front of you. It was the perfect spot, not too close, not too far. You had a clear view of the entire stage and could even see the glinting drumkit at the back from the occasional flash of light.

 

“Have the other acts played yet?” You had to yell over the noise of the crowd. Hopefully Reids meeting tomorrow wouldn’t consist of you having to sing anything because by the looks of it your voice may not make it through the night.

 

“Yes, we got here just in time!” Cass grinned, and as soon as he was done talking the speakers began to roar. The intro music filling your ears, making your heart start to pound. You watched as the stage stayed dark. The intro music receding and then building back up until the most recognizable “bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum” started playing and you screamed. Freddie’s voice coming over the speakers for the first time.

 

_“I see a little silhouetto of a man.”_

 

You started singing along at the top of your lungs. Theo’s arm flung over your shoulder as you went back and forth yelling _“Galileo”_ at each other. You were grinning so wide that your face was aching already.

 

It wasn’t until the rock out section that a spotlight came on the stage. It had an orange glow, smoke billowing out from the back of the stage. Freddie stood, arms straight up in the air like he was the king of the world. John Deacon and Brian May flanking him, all in white. Stunning and captivating. It was like they ruled the world, owned the music, believed they were the best band in history and honestly, they probably were.

 

The show continued with hit after hit. Ogre Battle, Sweet Lady, Brighton Rock, one right after the other, it was fantastic. Freddie was a showman, with a voice that was out of this world and a flamboyancy that demanded attention, he owned the stage.

 

You were sweating and giddy. The four of you falling over each other, shouting out the lyrics to every song that came on. It was magical, even euphoric. You felt as if nothing could make this night any better. If the band had suddenly decided that they were done for the evening and left the stage you would be far more than satisfied with the performance. As it were you watched Brian May sit down with his acoustic guitar and address the audience. His lean frame elegant and graceful as he adjusted the microphone to sit at the perfect height.

 

“Thank you very much.” He breathed, “From one piece of nonsense to another, I’ve said it before. This is something which we, uh, we were gonna do with the London Philharmonic but they didn’t turn up. So, uh, we will do the ethnic version of a song called _‘39_.”

 

Starting to strum the guitar Brian and Freddie encouraged the crowd to sing and clap along. The red lights slowly rising to display John and Freddie at the front of the stage. What was different from before was that standing between them with his bass drum at his feet was Roger Taylor. He had a tambourine in his hands and was looking over at Freddie, a grin spread wide across his face. Throughout the show, it had been slightly difficult to see the drumkit due to the amount of smoke and the overall darkness of the venue. However, now standing at the front of the stage Roger turned to look out into the audience. His eyes roaming the faces in the crowd until they locked with yours. His smile widening for a brief second before turning back to sing the most beautiful falsetto you had ever heard. Leaning against Freddie he sang higher than you thought possible.

 

You continued to watch him, your eyes never leaving his face. You hadn’t realized it but when Theo grabbed your arm and asked if you were alright you noticed that you had stopped moving altogether. Standing there staring at the most beautiful human being you had ever seen in your entire life.

 

Turning your head to Theo, you nodded dumbly before trying to swallow through your suddenly dry mouth. Looking back to Roger you step slightly forward, subconsciously wanting nothing more than to be closer to the man. You were transfixed for the rest of the song, the only thing breaking out of your daze was the loud and high “Alright!” from Freddie as the song ended.

 

The roar of the crowd was deafening and thankfully so because you could not keep the shocked, “Holy shit!” from leaving your lips as Roger turned to walk back to his drumkit.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so here are a few things to get a reference from...
> 
>  
> 
> [Hyde Park Concert](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PRrjzquSLpw)
> 
>  
> 
> [Outfit you wear to concert](https://www.fashiongonerogue.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/glam-rock-fashion-editorial04.jpg)


End file.
